64th Reaping [D7]

Today would have been normal, or normal enough, if not for the Reaping. (Then again, the Reaping was normal in it's own way but it was not the routine I was accustomed to day to day.) I woke early that day, woken by the fears that had flutter in my gut since last night. There were so many things that could happen, (so many bad things that would yank my heart out of my chest if they really did happen,) that I had sat up most of the night trying to push those dark images from my mind so I might sleep without a nightmare. Unfortunately, even in my sleep the plagued me and I had a restless night, so much so that now - even after the six and something hours I managed to sleep - I felt drained and still the day had yet to begin. Everything felt heavy - the sheet twisted around my legs, my feet, my head, my very being - and I dragged myself into something like a sitting position with time and some difficulty. The yawn that pulled my mouth wide made me wonder if I might break jaw just sitting here, (trying to intake oxygen so my brain might regain a form of real consciousness.)

Another yawn, (somehow feeling larger than the last,) strained my jaw to the limit but still it didn't crack. I had to say I was impressed, but not overly surprised. If bones were meant to break that easily then I would have probably broken many by this point. My next step now was to truly get out of bed, to get myself moving and perhaps get food in me. There was only so much time you could run on an empty stomach, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to eat later as the reaping anxieties would only swamp any want I may have for food. Taking a moment to stretch, (and cracking about three spots on my back for a small flash of relief,) I readied myself to officially join the waking world. It took me a moment to push myself to a standing position, keeping a hand on the top of my bed to steady myself as my heavy body wanted to fall back and stay on the bed until this was all over. Refusing to give into that inner demand, (I lifted one leg and put it a step in front of me, the other following as I taught tired mind to walk again.) One step at a time, just take the day one step at a time. The thought rolled inside my head as though my skull were a cup and my mind were a beverage, coating all of the sides until the residue from it was all around. It was all that kept me from taking those few large strides back to sleep.

Finally, (after what felt like an eternity of tiny steps,) I reached what was my kitchen, the abandoned house I lived in was not the nicest of places and it left me with only a couple rooms that were truly habitable. (The kitchen, in my case, was also the dining and living rooms, and my bed was nestled into the corner.) Thankfully, though, even if the rooms weren't the greatest I still had heat, air conditioning, water and electricity. I could make do quite comfortably with what I had. In one of the cupboards I found the last couple slices of bread from the loaf I had bought only a few days ago. Sometimes I felt like I lived my live on bread, (though I wasn't sure how I managed to not get sick of it,) still it couldn't be any worse than the mushy grain and oil that the Capitol gave out in exchange for Tessera. I let that thought comfort me as I picked at my bread, my stomach still too constricted for me to eat but the better half of my brain forcing the food down anyway. When the bread was gone, (being choked down my esophagus so it might hopefully reach my stomach and give me enough energy to make it through the day,) I went over to the trunk where I kept my clothes, (hands shaking slightly as I opened it to see my reaping clothes on the one side while my day clothes sat on the other.) Pushing the images that still tried to haunt me to the back of my mind, I grabbed my regular day clothes and pulled them on, the shaking in my hands subsiding slightly as I tried to pretend it was any other day. (Except that I had already established that it wasn't.)

I couldn't think of anything to do, (not even a side craft that might distract me from the butterflies that still ravaged my stomach, which left me with nothing but empty time. Empty time that wasn't actually empty, but in truth filled with horrible images and painful anxieties that would eat away at my sanity until the Peacekeepers would have to come in here with a tazer and a collar in order to drag me to the Reaping. I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a sigh, (hoping that some of the dark images that floated past my eyes might exit on that breath.) Though the images didn't count to any less, I did feel steadier and a more logical part of my mind woke from the stupor it had been in, overrun by the panic that was nibbling at the corners of my mind. That logical portion of my brain pointed to the door, (whispering ideas of taking a walk and trying to forget my life's problems, at least until they all came crashing back down on me when the Reaping started.) Guided by this clear thinking, I exited my place to the dry heat of outside which felt almost like a wall and momentarily made me want to just go back inside. I knew that if I did that I would just lose myself to my worries and I forced myself to leave my doorstep, (another deep breath stretching my lungs before hissing out from between my teeth.) Calm.

My walk took hours, winding down each street to take a view of every part of District seven because my gut was screaming at me that this might be the last time I ever see it. My feet walked paths that I had used years ago to sneak around, and my hands brushed along buildings that I had been past many times. (If I was reaped, this would be the last time my feet tread these grounds or touched these walls.) I had to take it all in and store it deep inside me so I would never lose it. My mind still wandered to the Reaping, (still generating those terrible images that made me thinks such things as everything being my last time.) The time was near one as I reentered my home, maybe for the last time, going into the bathroom almost as soon I walked in the door so I wouldn't throw up those meager pieces of bread onto my things. I made it to the toilet just in time and the little bit that I had eaten this morning came up, with more acid than food following and turning the toilet water an angry yellow. (Feeling unclean after vomiting,) I stripped down and bathed, making sure to keep my head plenty above the water to try and keep my real phobia at bay. I hated being afraid of water like I was, but at least I was fine to bathe, I just couldn't shower because water would fall on my head and trigger my fear. Getting out, (and feeling cleaner though no calmer,) I dried myself off. I tried to spend as little time thinking as I wiped the moisture from my limbs, wrapping the towel around my waist once I was dry.

Putting on my Reaping clothes took more effort than I would have thought, (though most of it was mentally taxing as apposed to physically straining.) My hands shook, worse than before, as I pulled on my dress shirt and fumbled horribly with the buttons. I could barely get into my pants with how much I was trembling, (cursing my fears as I buttoned them and put on a belt, looping it through and pulling it tighter than it needed to be.) Black socks and dress shoes went on next, finishing what my mother might have called a "tidy appearance," though I'm sure she would have criticized me for something. Combing my hair and taking a string of deep breaths I try to keep my composure, (and keep myself from vomiting again.) I shook out my hands, bouncing on the balls of my feet for a moment while I tried to work out the jitters that continued to run up and down my spine. Then, stealing myself with thoughts that there were so many reasons why I wouldn't be reaped there was no point in worrying. Once again, I had to drive myself to take my small steps forward until I finally loosened up and began to walk with my normal stride. I reached the District square in good time, and was herded into the boy's area to stand somewhat close to the front with the other seventeen year olds. I was really shaking now, (that little gut feeling that had bothered me all morning now jabbing holes in my heart and mind as I stood there,) waiting for the names to be called. It took time for everyone else to file in, filling the roped off areas so much that everyone stood close enough to breathe each other's breaths, each one panted in panicked hyperventilation and that sense of doom filling all of our chests until we might all explode. I don't know how many times I nearly fainted, standing there as the escort welcomed everyone and once again led us through the droll tale of the dark days that everyone in Panem had memorized by the age of six.

Finally, it was time for the names to be drawn and the real Reaping to begin. Time for two children to be torn away from their families and friends to be subjected to the worst experience of their lives, which will more than likely be their last. "It is time," hearing the statement from the escort made it all the more real for me as I watched intently, (waiting for the names and praying to Ripred that I might live another year,) "to once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!" I didn't want to begin, but I wanted to assure myself that I was safe when I heard the name of a different boy and feel sick with myself that I was thanking Ripred for sending some other boy off to die while I lived a relatively peaceful life. (But first, I had to mourn for the girl picked to represent my District.) "Ladies first," it amazed me that only this many words made me hate the escort as much as I did. (Normally I didn't cast judgement this fast, but when I am on the verge of breaking a million ways I rush my decisions more than I should.) "Yaa Valarro!" I didn't know her, but then again, I hardly knew anyone so it wasn't much of a surprise. I wasn't exactly the most outgoing guy, and I rarely go out in the spring because of all of those rain showers. (I hated rain so much, it was the bane of my sanity even if it did nothing to alter my existence.)

The reaping, however, could alter my existence and I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet, (like I was about to bolt the moment a name was called be it mine or not,) as I shuddered at the images that grew all the more vibrant and disturbing while seconds of silence between the two names grew to years. Then reality snapped back to itself as the name finally left the escort's lips and I listened to see if I could go home and breakdown and cry because I was safe for another year. "Deimos Lasner!" The hope that rose in me from that thought was put out so completely by the sound of my own name that I felt like crumpling to the ground and dying right there. What did it matter since I was going to die anyway, enter the Games and be cut down by Careers to bleed into earth that will be gawked at by Capitolites because they liked watching me bleed. (Ice trickled down my back and I stood frozen, my breath caught in my throat for so long I thought I might pass out.) It was then that I was smacked on the back by some boy I couldn't see and I stumbled forward, coughing a bit as I was guided along by the boys around me until I stood at the very edge of the roped area. A peacekeeper came over to me and let me through, with a pointed glance and a prod in the back to make sure I went. As if I could think well enough right now to realize that I was signing myself up for a death more certain than running from the peacekeepers would get me.

I climbed the stairs, (numb with the shock of being Reaped, and of having my hopes dashed so horribly that I could almost see the stain they had left on the ground I had been standing on.) The boys had left an obvious empty space there, making it known that they noticed my absence, though I didn't know whether they cared about my personal sacrifice or whether they were just trying to stay away from the spot that must be stained with my bad luck. Either way, there was a small corner of my heart that warmed at the sight, enjoying the fact that I would be missed. My back a little straighter, (and my heart a little less heavy,) I took my place to the escort's side, opposite of my District partner. When the escort asked if I wanted to say anything I just shook my head, there was nothing I could say to make myself or anyone else feel any better so I wouldn't bother making myself look like a fool. There was plenty of time for that in the arena.

[Deimos Lasner accepts his position as tribute.]